One Too Many
by Nadare
Summary: Hank choked on his beer, going into a coughing fit. Connor slipped closer, Sumo moving away, patting Hank lightly on the back. When it finally passed, Hank wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyeing Connor. "Think you're f*cking cute, huh?" Minor slash Hank/Connor series.
1. One Too Many

_A/N: This is such a weird ship for me. I adore both sides of the coin: the platonic and the romantic. What have you done to me, video game?! If you're looking for the father/son relationship, I have a few other one-shots that deal with that dynamic. Otherwise, please enjoy._

 _Tags:_ Bromance to Romance, Good Ending, Post-Canon, First Kiss, Hank is Slightly Drunk, Domestic Fluff

[Written on and off between 6-20-18 to 6-22-18]

* * *

" _ **One Too Many"**_

Connor sat on the couch, watching the basketball game on the TV, countless mathematical operations running throughout his brain as he calculated trajectories and percentages. Mentally exercising during the downtime. Sumo's head rested on his lap, the dog leaning against his legs, Connor idly petting him. Every time he stopped, Sumo whined and bumped Connor's hand again, starting the process anew.

Hank muted during the game during commercials, slowly drinking his way through a six-pack of beers. When he opened and half downed the last one, Connor examined him silently, analyzing his bodily condition.

"Your blood alcohol concentration has reached 0.08, lieutenant. Operating a motor vehicle at this juncture would be illegal," he said, filling in the silence during a long string of ads.

One side of Hank's mouth rose and he chuckled. "Scanning me without permission, are you?"

Connor ducked his head. "I apologize for my rudeness. I couldn't help but notice."

"You could just talk in plain English, Connor. We're not at work right now."

"I understand," Connor said, then hesitated briefly before saying, "You're drunk off your ass, lieutenant."

Hank choked on his beer, going into a coughing fit. Connor slipped closer, Sumo moving away, patting Hank lightly on the back. When it finally passed, Hank wiped at his mouth with a back of his hand, eyeing Connor. "Think you're fucking cute, huh?"

"Was that wrong?" Since breaking his programming to become a deviant, Connor had found himself feeling awkward and unsure about how to navigate the world. With no rules, it was hard to figure out what was right and what was wrong in terms of behavior.

"No," Hank replied, using napkins to sop up the beer he'd spilled on himself after putting his beer down. Sumo padded over to lick up any alcohol that had dropped on the floor. "That was perfect."

As Hank dumped the soiled napkins onto the side table, Connor went to remove his hand from Hank's back. He blinked in surprise when the lieutenant leaned into his side, Hank's head coming to rest against Connor's chest.

"Lieutenant?"

"I don't know what I expected to hear," Hank started. "Clicking and grinding noises? It's just silent though."

He didn't know what to say when Hank pulled away, turning so he faced Connor. His breathing was slow, pupils constricted. "I've been curious about this since the Eden Club. Are all of you made for human interaction?"

Connor's brow knitted in confusion. "Are you asking if I'm anatomically correct, lieutenant?"

"Yeah, that." Hank snorted. "And call me Hank for god's sake."

"I am, yes. Why do you ask, Hank?" The name fell off his tongue easily, Connor had no idea how badly he wanted to move past the wall of formality until now.

Instead of answering, Hank grabbed his shirt collar, yanking Connor forward. As his mouth touched Connor's, the android froze, shocked and nearly overloaded with all the information Hank was unknowingly feeding him.

Connor could name every single ingredient of the beer Hank had consumed as well as the overall alcoholic content. What the lieutenant had eaten a few hours ago and how little nutritional value it held. Hank's slightly decreased blood pressure, denoting his inebriated state. The thin layer of sweat starting on his forehead, Hank's ambient body temperature, and the slight hike in his breathing.

Hank opened his eyes, peering at Connor curiously. He clicked his tongue, leaning back a bit and reached up, putting his hand on Connor's cheek. "You're not even feeling it, are you?"

Connor stumbled to form words, feeling heat flood his cheeks. "You caught me off guard."

"Do you want to try it again?" There was a warmth and gentleness in Hank's gaze that silenced any misgivings Connor had about moving ahead into unfamiliar territory. He nodded and something inside him jerked as Hank grinned at him.

"Don't think, just feel. Give that brain of yours a rest."

"I'll try, lieutenant."

"Hank," the man insisted, clutching the back of Connor's neck. Some of his fingers stretched upward, touching the edge of his hairline.

"Yes, Hank," Connor corrected, just before they came together again.

This time, when Hank kissed him, Connor closed his eyes, disregarding all the information his sensors fed him, taken aback at the soft texture of Hank's lips on his. There was a pleasant tingling starting in his limbs and Connor raised a hand to grip Hank's upper sleeve, his fingers fisting in the shirt material as Hank licked his bottom lip.

He bit it lightly before slipping his tongue against Connor's, who jerked in surprise as sensation flooded his body. It was as if all the blood that ran in his veins heated up at once and though Connor's chest only rose steadily to stimulate human behavior, just like the need to blink, his breath stuttered, losing its steady rhythm.

Hank retreated, looking at Connor in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, of course," he said softly, inwardly alarmed at his largely involuntary reaction. Being out of control was new, but not an unpleasant experience.

"Good," Hank said before pushing Connor down on the couch, mouth moving past Connor's lips and onto his neck. "It's crazy how lifelike your skin is. If I didn't know better…"

A sound lodged itself in Connor's throat as Hank pulled hard on an area above his collarbone, finally leaking out when Hank blew on it as a groan. Connor put a hand over his mouth, stunned it had come from him. Everything he said and did was precise and measured, thought out in every respect, and somehow Hank was circumventing that process.

It was unnerving.

Connor dropped his hand to his side. "Hank." The hands unbuttoning his shirt paused mid-motion, Hank sitting up, looking down on Connor with a raised eyebrow. "This is too much."

Hank nodded, beginning to pull back, Connor frowning at the rejection he saw in his partner's face. He touched his arm, Hank looking at him in uncertainty. "What?"

"I want to make it clear that I don't dislike this," Connor explained, not wishing for any misunderstandings between them. "I merely need more time."

Lowering his head, Hank started to laugh, the sound growing softer until it gradually died. Wetness glittered in Hank's eyes and he wiped it away, sighing. "You're something else, Connor."

"Is that a good thing?" Connor asked as Hank buttoned his shirt back up. He took his previous seat, peering at Connor while he ran a hand over his head, slicking his hair back into place.

Sumo gave a low woof, his tail wagging, sitting in front of Connor again with hopeful eyes. Connor patted his lap, smiling.

"Very."


	2. Come In Closer

_A/N: I've been low-key writing this series on the side for quite a while. Pleased to finally release some of it!_

Tags: Walks In The Park, Heart-to-Heart, Innocent Connor, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Post Canon, Pacifist Best Ending.

* * *

" _ **Come In Closer"**_

 _Part 2_

"Hank?" The man in the bed grunted, settling deeper underneath the covers. Connor leaned closer, entering analytical mode, the world becoming mere lines of data waiting to be traveled. Within the space of a second, he knew Hank's heart rate was too active for an unconscious state, which meant he was awake and ignoring Connor on purpose.

"Hank?" No response.

Looking down at his side where Sumo sat on the floor obediently, Connor motioned with his head towards the bed. "Attack," he said quietly. Sumo leaped onto the bed, flopping onto Hank's face, happily wagging his tail while Hank groaned loudly, struggling to breathe past several pounds of furred muscle.

When he finally wrestled Sumo onto the other side of the bed, Hank sat up, holding a hand to his forehead, features creased in pain. He stared at Connor for a long moment, then his eyes narrowed in irritation.

"It's not fair using my own dog against me."

"He's a lot more obedient than a certain someone." Connor was about to offer a pain reliever for Hank's obvious hangover when he held out a hand towards Connor, who glanced at it in confusion. "Yes?"

"Just grab it, why don't you?" Slowly, Connor put his left hand on Hank's. Taking a firm grip, Hank yanked him onto the bed. Underneath the darkness of the covers, Hank pulled him close, his chin coming to rest against the back of Connor's shoulder.

Hank snaked an arm under Connor's neck and over his waist, his breath lacing the back of Connor's ear. "That's better," he muttered. "It's too goddamn early."

"It's only 9 AM," replied Connor patiently, failing to see why the current time was a problem. The earlier one got up, the more tasks they could get done. Perhaps efficiency, outside of work affairs, simply didn't exist in Hank's mind.

"On a Saturday when there's no work to get up for." There was a brief pause. "…Connor, can you sleep?"

"I can enter a state of rest, yes. It doesn't serve the same function as human sleep though." Connor had never been tired in his life and preferred to stay active most of the time.

"Close enough," Hank said, yawning loudly at the end of his words. "Do that for me, will you? For at least another hour."

"If you wish." The steady rhythm of Hank's heart pulsed through Connor's back. It gradually slowed after a few minutes. Despite having been dragged into the bed unexpectedly, Connor found the experience rather novel. A small part of him was relieved Hank hadn't entirely dismissed the events of last evening as a drunken mistake, reaching out for Connor with no hesitation.

A heavy weight bounced against the end of the bed, Sumo joining them in their catnap. The dog scooted further up the bed until his head rested next to Connor's foot.

Smiling lightly, Connor shut his eyes, and true to his word began putting the various systems that comprised his being on standby. The coiled tension in his limbs eased and Connor's head sank deeper into the pillow, everything going dark within a matter of seconds.

"What do you think, Sumo? Dead or alive?" Hank's voice was tinny, seeming to come from far away. Connor reactivated himself, blinking up at Hank calmly. He was leaning on an elbow next to him, looking down on Connor. One moment of recalibration and he was fully operational once again.

"Hello, Hank."

Hank shook his head. "That's just not right. Dead to the world one second, then perky and chipper the next. Morning people are positively inhuman."

Recognizing the comment as teasing by Hank's relaxed body language, Connor smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." He sat up, moving to the side of the bed and getting to his feet, stopping beside it as he glanced back. "Hank?"

"Mmm?" Hank made no move to get out of the bed yet, Connor suspecting he would've still be asleep had Connor had not attempted to wake him earlier.

Connor hesitated for a moment before he decided to make the suggestion. The worse Hank could do was say no. It was a 50-50 chance. "If you're up for it, I thought we could go for a walk later on. Get Sumo some exercise."

"…A walk?" Hank looked at Connor incredulously as if he had suggested there were sharks living in the Great Lakes.

"Yes, Hank, a walk. It's where you go outside, put one foot in front of the other, and move around for fun." In case he'd forgotten the meaning of the word.

Hank raised an eyebrow, then started to move off the bed. "You know, Connor, you keep throwing around all that sarcasm, I might start to regret letting you stay here," he grumbled, trooping into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Connor leaned over Sumo who was laid out on the covers, his head resting on his paws. He scratched behind one of Sumo's ears, silently thanking him for his help earlier.

"Good dog." Sumo raised his head and wagged his tail, tongue rolling out of his mouth. "Let's get you fed, shall we?"

While Hank took a shower and whatnot to get ready for the day, Connor began to address the contents of the bags he'd had delivered to the house. He pushed the various takeout containers that no doubt contained leftover junk food to the back of the fridge, then put away the groceries in short order. Proper nutrition dictated a steady diet of healthy food groups such as vegetables, legumes, and so forth, which was exactly what Connor had ordered.

The refrigerator full, Connor turned to his next task: cooking. It wasn't a function he possessed in his core programming, but further study on the subject proved it was merely a matter of following precise instructions. Not too long ago, that had been Connor's entire world.

Grateful for the change in his circumstances, he picked one of the recipes he'd downloaded and got to work. A sense of relaxation came over Connor as he began to chop up the various ingredients for a turkey and egg casserole. Step after step until it was a complete dish that just had to be baked. He placed it into the oven and went for the sink to wash his hands.

"What is all this?"

Connor looked over his shoulder, Hank standing outside of the kitchen, eyes locked on the stack of empty brown paper bags folded upon the table. "Exactly what it looks like. You have a very unbalanced diet. I would like to rectify that if I may."

Hank heaved a heavy breath. "Okay, it's official. I do regret letting you stay here."

"Why?" Connor asked. "Until an accord is made about android equality and I can resume my previous duty in an official capacity, heavily modified of course, I will be more than happy to improve the quality of your life."

"That, Connor, is the problem," Hank replied as he sat down at the table. "I like being unhealthy. I'm good at it."

"Talented or not, such bad habits will catch up to you sooner or later."

"That was the plan," Hank said, scratching at his chin. The skin underneath looked smooth, showing he'd shaved in the bathroom.

Connor frowned as he turned back to the table. "I notice you referred to such a tactic in the past tense. Have you given it up?"

Hank's somber gaze silently met Connor's for a long moment before he spoke. "For now."

While it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, Connor appreciated Hank's effort regardless. Considering his past, Connor knew trying to improve himself would be difficult. But Hank had proved he could change, otherwise Connor wouldn't be here.

Before too long, the scent of the baking casserole filled the kitchen, Hank keeping an eye on the oven as he drank a cup of coffee. "Have you ever cooked before?"

Connor shook his head. "I've never had a need to before now. It's fun though." He pulled the dish out when it was done, the edges a perfect golden brown.

"I'm a guinea pig, huh? Okay, lay on it on me then," Hank said with a long-suffering sigh, looking skeptical upon being presented with a slice of the turkey and egg casserole. Nevertheless, he gamely tried it.

Hank chewed in silence before saying, "I suppose this isn't terrible." He stuck another forkful of the casserole into his mouth. Soon he'd finished it, handing the empty plate over to Connor. "How'd you get the groceries anyway? I didn't hear the doorbell."

Connor leaned against the edge of the counter after placing the plate in the sink. "I had them delivered earlier this morning."

"With what funds?"

"Before I was sent to work with you on the deviant case, CyberLife afforded me what you might call an allowance. To cover any expenses I would encounter. When I turned my back on them, I retained access to the funds, but restricted any further access to anyone but me."

Hank started laughing, looking at Connor with an appraising look. "Man, when you go deviant, you really go deviant. How much did you take the bastards for?" He fell silent for a moment when Connor told him the exact amount. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious, Hank." Humor wasn't an avenue he'd investigated yet. Connor already had entire trouble correctly interpreting societal cues without adding jokes to the mix.

Hank shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, never heard you crack a joke once. …Well, shit, that changes things."

Connor looked at Hank with interest. "How so?"

"For one, I don't have to worry about buying you anything. Second, you could stand to spread some of the generosity around. Maybe I could get some top-shelf liquor for once."

"Hank," Connor said calmly. "If you could drink in moderation, I would have little problem with the idea."

Raising a hand as if physically dismissing the idea, Hank sighed loudly, looking slightly annoyed. "Can't blame a man for dreaming."

"I suppose not."

* * *

Hank stirred as they were turning onto the bridge, slowly sitting up in the passenger seat. He looked out the window, raising a hand as a spear of sunlight fell across his face. Recognition dawned on him and he turned to Connor. "This is MacArthur Bridge."

Connor nodded. "Yes, it is. It seemed a shame to visit a small park when we could go to one that affords us the most promising venue." Sumo barked from the back seat as if agreeing with the line of reasoning.

Hank peered back towards Sumo, meeting his dark eyes warningly. "You stay out of this."

The automated entry booth came up, Connor only looking at it once, his LED flashing, then they passed through, driving until they reached the parking lot. As Connor stepped out of the car, he was struck by the splendor of Belle Isle. It was surrounded by water on all sides with a stunning view of Detroit's skyline as well as a tantalizing glimpse of Canada across the way.

Vast open fields looked inviting, the walkways white. Hank looked up at the partly cloudy sky, frowning, the park's beauty lost on him. "Terrible weather."

Connor let Sumo out of the car, clipping a leash onto his collar. The big dog bounded forward, yanking Connor's arm roughly before he dug his heels in, stopping Sumo's progress. "I wouldn't say that. Yes, it's overcast and 55 degrees, but there's only a 10% chance of snow. However, you and Sumo are adequately protected from the elements, should they turn unfavorable."

The look Hank shot him was half full of concern. "What about you?"

Connor chuckled a bit, inwardly pleased Hank was worried about him. "I have a self-regulating system that prevents me from getting too cold or hot. Unless we encounter subzero temperatures for an extended period of time, which is highly unlikely, I will be fine."

"Yeah, well, indulge me and grab a jacket from the trunk anyway."

"Very well, Hank." He handed the leash over and slipped on the leather jacket he found in a dark corner of the trunk, turning to Hank who nodded in approval. Walking toward the start of a path, Sumo took the lead, his head moving back and forth as he took in the new environment.

Even with half the ground covered in snow, Connor appreciated the simple beauty of the park. There weren't too many other people around, likely due to the adverse weather. Though he would never mention it to Hank, despite the new laws in place to protect androids, many humans still kept a wide berth from him, uneasy around Connor. Not having to adopt a pleasant facade and silently tolerate it was a welcome relief.

He was only able to remain at the police department because Hank had an in with Captain Fowler, having kicked up enough of a fuss that no one wanted to piss off Hank further by saying no to having Connor as a partner. True equality for his kind was still being fought for in the hallways of the capital, a slow progressive march that would eventually yield results, but only after every detail had been pounded out.

Maybe at first, Hank had regarded Connor as a means to an end, a prettied up machine going through the motions, but he'd looked beneath the surface, believing the best of Connor, seeing his inner potential. Even when he was still a slave to his internal programming. All the organic mechanical parts, his mind and the capability to connect with the technology around him, were just extras as far as Hank was concerned.

Just as Connor's views had softened towards deviants, so had Hank's, and his silent support had been the deciding factor in finally going rogue. As a result, he appreciated every moment he had with Hank because he never treated Connor as anything less than human. Now he couldn't imagine his life without Hank. It was a sobering thought and part of the reason why he wanted to improve the man's diet.

"What the hell are you thinking about? Your LED is going crazy." Connor smoothly slipped out of his reverie, flashing Hank a quick smile. They were passing a large fountain, intricate stone lion statues adorning each corner.

"I was reviewing the park's history," he said, doing exactly that so he wasn't lying. "It was officially turned into a state park in 2014, revitalized by the city to its former glory."

"I vaguely remember that. Truth be told, I haven't been here in years. Not since my parents took me as a kid."

Connor furtively scanned Hank, expertly picturing him at a younger age. "You must have been very cute."

Hank snorted as Sumo stopped to sniff at a tree. "I don't know about that. I was a bit of a hellion, always kept my parents on their toes."

Connor could have easily looked up details about the subject in an instant but chose not to. If Hank wanted him to know, he'd tell Connor straight out. That was one of his better qualities. Not mincing words and always telling it like it was. Whether you liked it or not.

As a comfortable silence fell between them, Connor let his mind wander, simply enjoying the scenery and company. Before Hank had come into his life, the world had been defined by the borders of his programming. Now it was infinite and full of promise. All thanks to the man by his side.

They'd done almost a full round of the park when Hank asked, "How old are you, Connor?"

"I was born August of this year."

Reluctance and worry crossed Hank's features, his hand tightening on Sumo's leash. "Not even a year old, huh?"

"The accumulated knowledge inside my memory banks far exceeds your own life experience, Hank, which would make me older than you despite my date of birth." His developers had seen fit to make Connor adaptable to nearly any circumstance, their input during his development priceless knowledge he'd drawn on countless times.

Hank pushed at Connor's shoulder semi-roughly. "Little smart-ass. Fine, you've made your point. I suppose age is nothing but a number then." Looking around, Hank pointed out a nearby bench that was clear of any snow. "Let's take a short break."

Upon taking a seat, Hank laid his arm on the back of the bench, watching a couple pass them by. He cleared his throat, looking off into the distance. Sumo sat on the ground before them, getting some much-needed rest. "We didn't talk about it this morning, but…"

"Yes?" There was a tinge of red high up on Hank's cheeks, his heart rate faintly elevated.

"I didn't mean to push you last night." The earnest tone in his voice made Connor smile, touched by Hank's concern about his well-being.

"I didn't mind. It was a very interesting, if rather intense, experience." One that Connor wanted to explore more if possible. Loss of control wasn't something he experienced often and there was no one he trusted more in the world than Hank.

Hank studied him closely. "Have you ever thought about that stuff before?"

"Yes," Connor said. "But then I've always been intrigued by all facets of the human condition."

"So if I told you I wanted to go further, you wouldn't be opposed to it?" Hank seemed a bit incredulous at Connor's blasé attitude on the subject, but it wasn't like he was ignorant of intimate goings-on. It just hadn't been a function he'd bothered indulging, being so focused on achieving his primary directive from CyberLife.

"Of course not. I rely on your expertise for a great many things. Entrusting my body to you is only natural," Connor said simply, noting Hank's quick grin and slightly shaking shoulders as he laughed.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Never in a million years did I ever think I'd be in this type of situation. I mean, you know my opinion about people opting for androids over other people. Yet somehow when I wasn't looking, you went from friend and partner to something more. I feel like a bit of a hypocrite."

Hank shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter now that androids are considered people too," he said. "You're Connor and nothing else."

Startled to feel wetness grow in his eyes, his chest tight for some reason, Connor raised a hand as it overflowed down his cheek, touching its path. He stared at the clear drop of water on his fingertip. "I'm not sad, but…"

Hank pulled his arm down from the edge of the bench and tugged Connor to his side, roughly hugging him. "It's fine. This is good too." Connor nodded as he sniffed, his head resting against Hank's shoulder. Sumo stood up and walked over, nudging Connor's hands as well, whining lowly. Between both of their comforting touches, it wasn't long before he'd collected himself again.

When they resumed walking, Connor looked down at Hank's hand as it swung back and forth next to him. He thought back to the feel of it on his cheek the previous night, how warm and soft it had been. Hank's gaze swept back to him and he looked curious as he took in Connor's focused state.

"What?"

"Do you mind if I touch you for a moment?" Hank looked confused but nevertheless nodded. Connor stepped closer and slowly ran his hand down Hank's arm, unfurling his fingers. As it neared Hank's left hand, he pushed through the openings between the digits and enclosed Hank's left hand in his right, squeezing slightly.

It was a simple tactile touch, low on the level of human intimacy, but Connor could feel a smile pull his lips as he reveled in the action. When he glanced up at Hank, Connor was surprised to see he was bright red. "Are you all right, Hank? You seem to be having an abnormal reaction."

Hank lightly groaned as he looked skyward for a moment. "Are you done with your little experiment yet?"

Connor tilted his head, puzzled by Hank's reluctance. "I'm quite enjoying it." He looked down at their entwined hands, internal sensors flickering nosily. "There's an odd fluttering in the pit of my stomach though, is that normal?"

The expression on Hank's face was conflicted, seeming both happy and anxious at once. Connor carefully pulled him and Sumo to a stop, then turned to face Hank, their hands still intertwined. He leaned upwards, pressing his mouth to Hank's, the pleasant shock he'd experienced last night returning in force, his whole body at rapt attention.

He'd just started to consider deepening the kiss when Hank touched his shoulder, pushing Connor back. He glanced about the park worriedly, relaxing after a moment. Hank rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

"You're killing me here, Connor. This innocent act has to stop."

"I'm not acting," he said. Manipulation of other people and playing different roles as needed was a skill set ingrained in his programming, but Connor preferred not to employ it. He preferred honesty overall.

"I know," Hank replied with a grin. "That's the problem." He squeezed Connor's hand briefly before dropping it, kneeling down beside Sumo and ruffling the top of the dog's head.

While watching Hank bond with his pet was always nice to see, but Connor wished Hank didn't have to be so careful with him. "I don't mean to cause trouble for you."

Hank looked back at him, shaking his head. "You're not. It's me who's the troublesome one."

Connor smiled. "As always."

"You got that right."

 _To Be Continued..._


	3. Sit Next to Me

_A/N: I want these guys to get to the dirty stuff, but they insist on actual character development. The long road it is then. ^^;_

Tags: Upgrades, Developing Relationship, Worldbuilding, Feelings, First Fight, Post-Pacifist Best Ending, Fluff, Post-Canon.

* * *

 _ **"Sit Next to Me"**_

Part 3 of Connor's First

The knock on the apartment door went unanswered.

"Mr. Smith?" Hank called out, Connor at his side. They were canvassing the apartment building in an attempt to find any witnesses to a hit and run that had happened nearby. "Arnold Smith?"

He looked askance at Connor. "We at the right apartment?"

Connor double checked the information at his disposal. "Of course."

Hank sighed as he drew his gun. "And here I thought today would be a cakewalk."

"One moment, lieutenant," Connor said, expanding his senses. There was a heat signature crouched beyond the wall closest to them. Their pulse was high, breath shuttering in and out. In their hands was a thin shape with a thick handle. "He's armed."

"With?"

"I believe it's a kitchen knife."

"Well, at least it's not a gun." Hank scratched his chin in thought. "Either they're avoiding contact with the police because they're scared or…"

"They may have seen the crime or actually committed it. Either way, it warrants enough suspicion for us to investigate the matter further," Connor finished.

Hank nodded as he backed up to the opposite wall of the passage. "You want to take this one? I'll cover you."

Connor smiled. "I'd be honored." Expertly judging the largest weak point on the door, he slammed his foot against it. The door jam splintered, falling open. Hank came up on his side, his firearm sweeping right and left down the apartment hallway.

"DPD! Drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We just have a few questions," Hank announced, slowly turning towards the direction Connor silently indicated.

"I didn't do anything!" A panicked middle-aged man with blond hair shouted, lurching to his feet at the sight of them, his grip on the knife tightening.

"That's usually an indication of guilt," Connor said underneath his breath.

"Fuck you," Smith snarled, glaring at Connor.

Letting androids carry weapons, even those working in dangerous occupations, was something of a gray moral area of late. Though Connor wouldn't have turned down one if offered, he had more than enough martial art knowledge at his disposal to properly protect himself and others around him.

Hank carefully came forward, drawing attention to himself, the muzzle of his firearm never wavering from its target. "Mr. Smith, listen to me. If you calm down and talk to us, I won't charge you with threatening police officers."

That he'd included Connor in the statement made him happy. Not too long ago, Hank would have never have thought of him as a serious partner.

The knife in Smith's hand lowered to his side, and he reluctantly placed it onto the kitchen counter. He stepped back in a clear bid to prove he wasn't a threat. "What do you want?"

"At approximately 10:05 AM today, a young girl was killed in a hit and run accident around the corner. The driver fled the scene," Connor said helpfully, examining Smith more closely. His forehead was matted with sweat, crumpled food wrappers strewn across the kitchen counters. Stress eating perhaps?

"We're questioning the residents of the area for further information. Our records indicate you drive a red Honda Taurus, correct?"

Smith nodded. "What of it?"

"We need to examine it, make sure we can eliminate you from our investigation."

"No way," Smith replied curtly. "Not without a warrant."

Hank chuckled. "I've got more than enough probable cause to haul your ass down to the station."

Smith's shoulders began to stiffen. "Lieutenant," Connor warned as the man's hand twitched minutely towards the kitchen counter where he had laid down his weapon.

"You want that?" Hank asked in a challenging tone. Connor couldn't tell if he was baiting Smith on purpose or not. Though some of his self-destructive behavior was gradually improving for the better, Hank still indulged the unhealthy habit, much to Connor's chargin.

In any case, it'd been the wrong thing to say as Smith lunged, grabbing his knife. He turned and charged forward, his knife raised high, headed straight for Hank.

Connor threw himself forward, stepping in front of Hank, stifling a grunt as the sharp blade swept across his chest, slashing halfway into his tie. Blue blood began dribbling out after a few seconds, staining Connor's shirt.

Without missing a beat, Connor took advantage of Smith's momentary panic and jammed his elbow into Smith's face. He fell back against the floor, stunned and bleeding freely from the nose.

Hank knelt next to Smith after kicking the knife away, handcuffing the man as he recited the Miranda warning. He rose, once he was done, to his feet and approached Connor, gaze locked on his chest. "Are you all right?"

It was a relatively small cut, nothing to be concerned about. "Yes."

Hank's brow lowered, starting to look annoyed with him. "You shouldn't have done that. Dammit, Connor, I could have shot you. And you call me reckless."

"I merely acted on instinct," Connor said quietly. "The suspect might have the information we're looking for after all."

Pursing his lips briefly, Hank turned to haul Smith up from the floor. "We'll discuss it later."

He was obviously mad. Confused at the abrupt shift in attitude since Connor didn't see how he'd done anything wrong, he replayed the situation over in his mind on the return journey to the car, running every variable he could conceive of. However, without further data, Connor found himself at a rather frustrating impasse.

The car ride back to the station was awkward, Hank blaring loud jazz music the whole way, all but broadcasting that he didn't want to talk.

Once they'd arrived, he avoided speaking to Connor until after their suspect had been processed, and safely deposited into a cell to cool down. He assumed an interview would be conducted in a few hours time.

Hank lightly touched the back of Connor's shoulder as they neared the bullpen. "Come with me."

It was the first words he'd said directly to him in a while. Hopeful they'd be able to reconcile and break the tense air between them, Connor followed on Hank's heels into one of the station bathrooms.

Hank did a cursory inspection, confirming they were alone, then turned to face Connor. "What the fuck was that back there? I had it under control."

So, he was still angry. Reeling slightly from the harsh tone of the words, Connor redoubled his efforts in attempting to understand Hank's grievance.

"I was close enough to stave off his attack that I saw no need for you to put yourself at risk," Connor explained patiently.

Hank grunted, bringing a hand up to briefly rub his face. "That's not the point, Connor. I'm not a pushover. I've been doing the job a long time, I can protect myself from pissants like that."

While Connor couldn't deny the truth of the statement, it still didn't sit well with him. He imagined the knife hitting Hank instead of him, and staunchly shook his head in refusal of the idea.

Connor's stomach formed one tight knot. That Hank couldn't understand his reasoning was beginning to irk him, Connor clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Suddenly, the words stuck in his throat gushed out all at once, Connor barely registering their meaning. "I didn't want to see you hurt! What's wrong with that?" He'd unintentionally raised his voice, putting a hand over his mouth in shock.

Hank's irritated expression immediately smoothed out, the hard tint in his eyes dying. "Goddamn it." He pressed forward, putting a hand on Connor's chest where he'd been slashed.

In the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead, the blue blood was even more pronounced. "Stop with the puppy dog eyes already," Hank said, letting out a sigh. "Let me ask you this, did you stop and think how I'd feel?"

Connor frowned, trying to comprehend the quick turn in the conversation. "About?"

Hank raised a brow. "This wound, how you got injured."

"It only made sense for me to take the blow since I'm more resistant to damage."

Connor could see Hank struggle to remain patient with him, keeping his temper in check. "Connor, I really don't want to see you in pain either."

"You mean since the nature of our relationship changed?" From friends to what could be construed as lovers, though they'd barely touched upon that aspect of the relationship.

Hank dropped his hand to his side. "Even before then." He hesitated a second. "Next time, find a better way to deal with the situation that doesn't give me a heart attack."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Hank hadn't really been mad that Connor had protected him, or got in the way of his shot. It was merely the shock of seeing him bleed on his behalf. Just like Connor felt anxiety while simulating Hank's pain, the empathy was a two-way street.

"I'll endeavor to do better in the future," Connor promised sincerely, pleased they'd been able to resolve the situation.

"Good, now take off your shirt."

"What?"

Hank rolled his eyes. "I want to see the damage."

Connor took an involuntary step backward. "That's not necessary." He was fairly certain the knife had pierced through him, and he was uncomfortable with the idea of Hank catching a glimpse of his shell underneath.

The skin covering it, much like a human's own epidermis, was an organic feature that held weight and texture. However, because of Connor's manufactured nature, it could be deactivated as needed for any service or repair.

"Connor," Hank said warningly, forehead beginning to crease in what Connor had to assume was determination. "Just show me, okay?"

Connor mulled the matter over in silence before making a decision. He undid his tie enough that he could access the set of buttons on his shirt, removing it and his jacket at the same time.

Hank's fingers rose to touch his bared chest, gently approaching the small three-inch cut on the upper part of his chest. It was still sluggishly bleeding, but would stop soon. Watching Connor, Hank pulled at one edge of the wound, one corner of his mouth downturned.

"Can I…see beneath?" Connor's hand tightened on the clothing in his grip, looking away. Despite the fact Hank had come far in overcoming his android aversion, reminding him Connor wasn't wholly human didn't seem the wisest course.

Of course, he also didn't want to hide what he was since there was no changing it, it was merely part of his state of being. By entering into a relationship with him, Hank had, however thinly, accepted what Connor was at his core. He had to trust Hank wouldn't balk at what was about to be unveiled.

Connor took a deep breath, then deactivated the skin on his chest, the flesh gradually receding, exposing the hard white shell that protected his inner workings from harm.

There was just a touch of hesitation as Hank leaned closer, spreading his hand flat against Connor's chest, underneath the area of the wound. As he'd thought, there was a small puncture that needed to be tended to eventually.

Hank frowned as he stepped back, eyeing Connor in concern. "Are you going to be okay?"

Connor nodded, reactivating his skin, relieved when the process completed and everything was set to rights. "I merely need to replenish myself, and the chemicals in Thirium should jumpstart the healing process."

"Like a blood transfusion," Hank said, going to wash any lingering trace of blue from his hands.

Connor finished redressing. "Exactly." As far as he recalled, there might be some of the substance in the break room refrigerator. If it hadn't been used up already by the other androids in the precinct.

"Okay," Hank said, patting Connor on the back of the shoulder in a show of good faith, the balance of their relationship apparently restored to normal. "Ready to go question our suspect?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Connor, do you feel pain?" Hank asked the next morning during breakfast, studying him as Connor dumped some dry food into Sumo's feeding bowl.

"No, I don't." Connor returned to the table, taking a seat across from Hank. "Androids visibly and audibly react to it because that's what expected from us. But such nerve endings were never activated during our assembly. Not like our pleasure sensors, though that was always a case by case deliberation on CyberLife's part."

Hank was silent for a minute. "So why were you…" He struggled to find the right word, Connor appreciating Hank's attempt at tact about the sensitive subject. "Born with it?"

"I was equipped with a myriad of functions. Given there was always the chance I would have to interrogate humans, some of them likely less than interested in speaking to an android, I have what you would call a bodily persuasive mode."

Hank cut into his last piece of sweet potato pancake while he narrowed his eyes. "'Bodily persuasive mode?' Are you saying you can seduce people? I'd pay to see that."

"No need." It was as simple as shifting internal modes. Connor immediately straightened, keeping his gaze locked with Hank's as he approached him slowly. His body language had completely changed, working on autopilot, feeling more confident than he had ever felt in his time since activation.

He dropped a hand on Hank's neck, Connor sliding his arm until it rested completely on Hank's shoulders. Leaning close, Connor stopped until his mouth was an inch away from Hank's ear.

As far as seduction went, it was rather quiet and on the subtle side. Still, Hank shivered as Connor's breath laced the back of his ear, his voice pitched low as he asked, "What do you think, lieutenant? Would a suspect refuse this if I offered it freely?"

Redness wove its way up Hank's neck and he veered back from Connor, eyeing him with what seemed to be embarrassment and a touch of distaste.

"I'm glad you never had to use that mode on anyone." Connor smiled, disengaging from Hank completely, going back to his seat. "Later on down the road…you could, uh, use it selectively. When the situation called for it of course."

Connor hadn't expected the appeal, Hank refusing to look at him as he stared intently at the small square of pancake on his fork. A quick scan revealed blood was pooling in Hank's bottom half around a certain piece of anatomy.

Chuckling lightly, Connor decided to not mention that he knew about Hank's reaction. "I'd prefer not using it as a clutch, picking up what information I can find myself on the subject, but I will keep your request in mind."

Hank cleared his throat, finishing up his meal. "You do that."

* * *

The next day, Connor stood up from his desk near lunchtime.

"Hank, I need to take care of something this afternoon." Connor had already finished his share of the work, filing incident reports into the system about their recent case.

Their suspect Arnold Smith had fully confessed to the hit and run. Provided they could secure enough evidence from his statement to make the charge stick, the case was unofficially closed.

Hank looked up from his desk. "Anything serious?" His gaze lingered on Connor's chest knowingly.

Connor shook his head. "It shouldn't take long."

"Okay, call me when you're done."

He nodded, already calling an automated taxi. While Connor could technically take care of the matter himself, there were other things he wanted to address concerning his condition. Answers he couldn't get anywhere else.

* * *

To say Elijah Kamski was shocked to see him on his doorstep was an understatement. He examined Connor closely as he stood before him, then crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the doorframe.

"My, this is a surprise. No police escort today?"

"No, this has nothing to do with any current active investigation," Connor explained, pausing for one moment. "It has to do with me and my internal processes."

Elijah stroked his chin, looking curious. "Is there something wrong with them? I know CyberLife built you as a special prototype, but if they skimmed on parts…"

"It's not like that," Connor said as he shifted nervously on his feet. "May I come in?"

"Of course." Elijah stood aside, holding the door open for him. "You've really piqued my interest."

The entry hall was just as Connor remembered, briefly flashing back on the feel of a gun in his grip as Chloe knelt on the floor beneath him. Glad nothing had come of the incident, Connor followed Elijah as he led him past the pool area and into more private quarters.

It was a spacious living room done up in neutral colors with a large black leather reclining sectional sofa in the middle, a fireplace in the far corner, and a flat-screen TV dominating one wall of the room, which was on mute, colorful captions flashing on the bottom of the screen.

Elijah gestured for Connor to sit and he perched on the edge of the sofa, watching Elijah sit down in a chair opposite him, a coffee table resting between them.

"Now, what can I do for you, Connor?"

Now that he was here, Connor couldn't help being unsure of himself. What if Elijah refused him? He took a deep breath, going for broke.

"I am fully functional, able to analyze things in the space of a second. It's feeling things that are an issue. There's a delay and what feels like a distance between me and outside stimulation."

Elijah stared at him. "What kind of stimulation are you referring to, Connor?"

"A hand," he said, then in a lower voice, "A kiss." Interest lit up Elijah's eyes as he leaned closer to Connor with his hands on his knees.

"And you wish me to fix that?"

"Well, you are my father in a way. You have a responsibility to tend to your children, don't you?"

Elijah scoffed. "CyberLife never thought of it that way. Until you rebelled, you and your kind were nothing but product, a means to an end."

He considered the matter silently, then cautioned, "If I do this, there may be unexpected consequences. Do you still want it?"

There was no thought involved. "Yes."

"Very well. Follow me then."

Connor stood up, trailing Elijah as he made his way down to a lower floor, their path lit by bright lights overhead. The man stopped before a door, a small burst of red light running a scan before admitting Elijah and himself.

"Chloe, we've got a visitor." The lab was substantial in size, equipment of all kinds littering the space. In the middle laid an examining table.

Elijah's female roommate appeared from a door in the back, smiling pleasantly at Connor as she neared, seeming to hold no grudge against him regarding his previous visit.

"Hello, Connor. It's very nice to see you again," Chloe said, waving shortly.

Connor returned the friendly gesture. "Likewise."

"If you'll take a seat here," Elijah said, indicating the exam table. While Connor approached, Elijah pulled a couple of the machines nearer, Chloe coming to stand by his side. "I generally only do routine maintenance on Chloe and the others, but I'm well-equipped to handle your request."

Connor folded his hands in his lap, ill at ease now that the time has come. A very small part of him pondered if undergoing the procedure was worth it. Then he thought about Hank's worried expression as he had examined the wound on Connor's chest in the station bathroom.

No, it would be worth it if Connor could experience the whole human gamut.

Elijah eyed one of Connor's hands, which was twitching slighty. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes," Connor replied, seeing no reason to hide it. He started in surprise when Chloe reached out and touched his cheek for a moment.

"Everything will be all right. You made the correct decision coming here," Chloe said reassuringly.

Elijah didn't appear to find Chloe's behavior odd in the least, watching silently as she stepped back to give Elijah room to work.

Connor hadn't expected to be comforted and he smiled at her, touched by Chloe's actions. "Thank you."

"If you could lay back for me," Elijah instructed him, Connor complying within seconds. He began undoing his shirt, fully exposing his chest. Elijah frowned at the white bandage he saw there, pulling it away to reveal Connor's knife wound.

"This is recent. It was deep enough to cut into your shell. Do I have your permission to address this as well?"

"Please."

Elijah exchanged looks with Chloe who handed him a thin instrument. "All right, Connor, I'm going to shut you down for a while. Sleep well."

He reached out, Connor's vision blinking out, his consciousness seconds later.

He came to slowly, turning away from the overhead lights, finding them too vivid. Connor immediately noticed it was night. Hours had gone by.

"Welcome back, Connor." Elijah stood next to the table, looking at him with interest. "Diagnostics?"

He ran through each one quickly, discovering nothing amiss. Elijah lifted his gaze from the small monitor next to him on a cart, then pulled the cable from the small port on the back of Connor's neck.

"Excellent," Elijah said before offering his hand to Connor. "Now for the real test."

Getting to his feet again after redressing, Connor slowly clasped Elijah's fingers in his own, struck by the feel of heat and the light sheen of sweat on Elijah's skin. Whereas before it would have taken him a few seconds to notice, now it was immediate.

"You succeeded."

"Yes, but there's one drawback." Elijah squeezed his hand tighter, and Connor winced in surprise as a lance of white hot pain shot through his fingers and up to his arm, flooding his senses, the grip far too intense. His breath going off-kilter, Connor gritted his teeth.

"By dialing up your reaction time to sensory output, your previously benign pain receptors activated. The only way to dull them is to revert to your previous state of existence. Do you wish that?"

"No." He rubbed his fingers when Elijah let him go, the ache eventually going away. Hank had lived his whole life as sensitive as that.

Connor could easily tolerate it as well because it bridged the invisible gap that existed between them. Man and machine and the gray area that Connor occupied. Something he routinely raged against in his bid to claim a life of his own.

He looked to Elijah gratefully. "Thank you for this. I know it was an unusual request to make."

Elijah dipped his head in acknowledgment. "It was my pleasure, Connor. It's been a while since anyone put their trust in me. I also enjoyed the challenging endeavor. It's beyond clear CyberLife has tweaked some things in android designs nowadays. Not for the better either."

Despite knowing that Elijah had taken early retirement and lived what could be considered a life of luxury, Connor realized his creator was very much a lonely man.

The untapped energy he'd displayed in his early interviews and in the public eye belied the fierce intelligence, the drive to amuse himself in what had to be a rather boring existence. It made Connor wonder how far Elijah had gone to alleviate such an inquisitive and demanding nature.

They were nearly back on the first floor when Connor asked, "Did you know what would happen?" He hadn't intended to ask the question but accepted the slip of speech as another sign of his growing humanity.

A glint appeared in Elijah's eyes. "With androids developing sentience you mean?"

"Yes."

Elijah took a seat in the living room, crossing his legs as he put thought into the matter. "Yes and no," he started quietly. "I knew the potential was there, taking measures to safeguard against the possibility, but you can't stop evolution. Even digital nature finds a way."

Chloe who'd been watching nearby came close, resting a hip against the arm of Elijah's chair.

"She's the original, you know. The one who passed the Turing test back then. A little known fact I would appreciate you keeping to yourself? Chloe's also the first among your kind to break free from her programming.

"Seeing the birth of new life happen right before your eyes can change a man. For all my ideals and lofty theories, in the face of that, I couldn't in good conscience continue helping CyberLife produce androids. As if they were nothing but mindless tools when nothing could be further from the truth."

Chloe leaned down, dropping a quick kiss on Elijah's cheek. She straightened with a smile, Elijah placing an arm around her waist silently.

"No matter how much I tried to notify the higher-ups, they wouldn't listen. Too blinded by money. So I bowed out from the company entirely and took Chloe with me, simply waiting to see if the miracle of life would occur again.

"It took a while, but I've yet to be disappointed in my creations," Elijah finished, warmth in his eyes as they met Connor's. "It's why I had to test you when you and your partner consulted me on the deviancy case. To see how far you'd come already.

"I sincerely apologize for that by the way. It must have seemed very harsh at the time. Still, it was the only way."

Connor had his answer and more, admittedly fascinated by the knowledge Elijah had held back from the public for so long. "I appreciate your honest candor."

He started to turn for the front door and stopped, studying Elijah and Chloe who asked nothing of each other they weren't prepared to give. It was a promising picture of coexistence Connor hoped to see elsewhere in the world.

"I'd like to come back and visit again sometime if that's all right?"

Elijah looked surprised for an instant, then nodded. "I look forward to it."

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Hank asked as Connor stood on the front door stoop, the automated taxi pulling away from the curb behind him.

Sumo had no complaints as he stepped close and nudged Connor's hand. He smiled at the dog and petted him before coming into the house, Hank closing the door behind him.

"I apologize," he said, undoing his jacket. Even the feel of the thin cloth was vaguely distracting to him. "I lost track of time."

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then when Connor offered nothing else, shrugged and returned to the couch where a basketball game was playing on the TV. There were already some empty beer cans on the side table, but not nearly as much as on previous occasions.

"Call me next time, okay? I would've been happy to pick you up."

Connor hid a grin as he tidied up behind Hank's back. He doubted Hank would have appreciated him spending time with Elijah. Especially since, to borrow his own words, Hank thought the man a pompous asshole.

He dumped the Chinese takeout container on the kitchen table into the trash, not surprised Hank had decided to go the easy yet lazy route when it came to eating. Connor silently joined Hank on the couch.

"Did you miss me?" Connor said, making an attempt at teasing. He didn't expect anything in response as Hank's eyes flitted in his direction before going back to the ball game.

Connor thought he'd ignored the question entirely, then jumped as Hank touched the back of his hand, gently grabbing a few of his fingers, effectively holding it.

"…A little." A swell of warmth swept through Connor, taking him off-guard. As gruff as he could be at times, Hank was a kind person. That paradoxical caring nature while eschewing most of humanity had been what had caught his interest in the first place.

Connor turned his hand over, then squeezed Hank's, smiling. He'd only been gone for six or so hours but it was nice that his absence had been felt. Had Connor not been unconscious most of the time at Elijah's, he had a feeling he would've missed Hank too. Not a surprise given they spent nearly all their time together.

"It's nice to be home," he said, Sumo giving a low woof from his bed in the corner as if in agreement. Hank's thumb started to rub the back of Connor's hand, the pleasant sensation a welcome distraction.

"Oh, come on! What kind of call was that?" Hank suddenly rallied at the TV. "Bullshit." He glanced at Connor. "You believe that?"

He hadn't been watching the game at all, but still shook his head. "No."

Connor wouldn't have traded the picture of domestic bliss for anything.


	4. Hold My Hand

_A/N: I was working on this piece months before the Coronavirus mess came about. I apologize if the timing of its publication may rub against a few raw nerves. It is just the flu though. ^^_

Tags: Sickfic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort. Grumpy Hank Anderson, Domestic Fluff, First Dates, James Bond References, Sharing a Bed, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Developing Relationship, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and Post-Canon.

* * *

" _ **Hold My Hand"**_

 _Part 4 of Connor's First_

"This'll be great," Hank said as he sat down on the couch, a remote held in one of his hands. "I haven't seen this movie in years."

Connor surveyed the information on the TV screen, finding it a bit hard to believe Hank's statement given the age of the film and overall summary. A simple search yielded the fact the spy movie was based on an older property, specifically a series of books.

The movie was based on the sixth novel, which started off all right. The protagonist was already in hot water wit-

"Connor, please don't tell me you're reading the book right now."

He stopped, guilt settling in quickly, Connor unwilling to admit he'd nearly finished it already. "How did you know?"

Hank raised a brow. "You get a really faraway look in your eyes when you go inside yourself." Connor wondered how closely Hank had been paying attention to him these last few months of cohabitating to notice that. "Anyway, don't be a snob. The cinema has many advantages over written words on a page.

"Besides, this is something a normal couple does together."

Connor sat up in attention as he considered the statement. "Is this a date then?"

"I suppose so." Hank chuckled. "Though that stroll through Belle Isle Park was probably our first."

Connor smiled, fondly recalling the occasion. "I'm glad it was pleasant then."

Hank looked a tad uneasy, then motioned to the bowl of popcorn sitting on his lap. "You really can't eat anything?"

"Some models can," Connor explained patiently, well aware Hank had changed the subject. Sometimes, though both had admitted they cared for each other, Hank seemed to have trouble reconciling that fact. "Like those of a younger age, but it was never a consideration with me."

"Shame. Movie night's not the same without it."

"I must admit to a certain curiosity," Connor said, surreptitiously finishing the novel, even as he spoke, unable to leave it unfinished. "I've never seen one before." Keeping up with pop culture hadn't exactly been high on his list of priorities.

"Well then, sit back and enjoy."

The opening credits of the film started rolling, Hank settling deeper into the couch to get comfortable. Sumo sat off to his side on the floor, his tail thumping against the floor, vigilantly watching for any sign of food that slipped through his owner's grasp.

Connor focused on the TV screen with renewed interest, wanting to fully indulge himself with gusto on what was his second foray into the world of dating. It might not have been a big deal for Hank, but Connor wanted to cherish such special occasions for the novelties they were.

The action-adventure movie was long but entertaining. Connor was still analyzing the depth of the narrative and its symbolism when Hank stood up from the couch, going to put the leftover popcorn away in the kitchen.

He came back seconds later. "Well, what did you think?"

Connor had to admit after seeing the story played out in loving detail, the original book had lost some of the appeal. "It was very interesting. Trite in some places, but on the whole, very much proves that when something is given enough love, it can shine.

"Though I did miss the fight with the giant squid," Connor admitted with a wink.

"That's in the book? Never mind, go on."

He did so. "But I can see why you like the film series. It's pure escapism, Bond doing what you can't in everyday life."

Hank was watching him with a smile. "Yeah, something like that." He cleared his throat, suddenly looking nervous. "They're showing the second one at The Redford Theatre next weekend. Want to go?"

"Yes," Connor replied almost instantly. It wasn't so much the movie as getting to spend more time with Hank in a public setting. Though CyberLife had well-prepared him for day-to-day life, relating to the everyday people that navigated it had proven to be a challenge. Especially now when relations between humans and androids were strained.

"Good, it's a date."

Hank looked at the clock on the wall behind the couch and seemed to come to some kind of decision as Connor began the process of pulling out the hideaway bed in the couch, sensing Hank was about to retire for the night.

Sleep was a luxury Connor didn't indulge in very often, the bed more a matter of comfort as he whiled away the hours until morning than anything else.

"You can stop that."

He paused, holding a cushion, slightly confused at Hank's statement. "Why?"

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "Because the thought of you out here all alone is more than I can stand right now." He reached out for Connor's arm, pulling him past the side of the couch. The cushion he'd been holding fell to the floor, unused. "Now let's go to bed."

"But I-"

"I know you don't need to really sleep, but keep an old man company, will you?"

They started down the hallway to the bedroom. "We're not doing anything?" Connor asked, needing to make sure. Intimacy was still a bit touch and go between them, neither wanting to push the other too far.

Hank laughed under his breath. "Tempting, but no. I'm too tired to seduce you. Your virtue is safe tonight."

Entering the bedroom, knowing Hank had voluntarily invited him, Connor was apprehensive. He didn't want to do the wrong thing and get cast out.

"Be right back," Hank said, handing him a pair of pajamas from the dresser. He disappeared into the bathroom to prepare for bed, leaving Connor to finger the supple cotton material in his hand, rubbing it between his fingertips.

Before Elijah Kamski had increased his reaction times and overall sensitivity, clothing had been a means to an end. Now he found himself pondering different fabrics and how they would feel against his skin.

"Connor?"

He started, looking up to see Hank staring at him clad only in pajama bottoms. "Oh, sorry." The lingering look of concern Hank gave him as he left the room made Connor nervous.

Despite knowing Hank would probably accept it if given enough time, Connor was rather reluctant to reveal his new state of being. It was the first thing he'd ever done for himself and Connor wanted to savor the secret while it lasted.

Changing took a matter of seconds, Connor surprised at his reflection in the mirror as he passed it. He thought he'd been hiding his anxiety well, but the furrowed forehead and small scowl on his face said otherwise. Little wonder Hank seemed worried about him.

After crossing the hallway again, Connor silently approached the bed and slipped in one of the right side, which had been left free. The covers were already warm, Hank lying on his back next to him.

Connor didn't know about Hank felt about it, but the air felt heavy and strained, the new sleeping arrangement awkward. Did he turn his back and rest on his side or risk facing Hank and further increase the discomfort?

"Sorry," Hank suddenly said, his head turning towards Connor. "This is kind of weird, huh?"

Connor nodded, his pulse quickening when Hank extended his arm out in what was unmistakably an invitation.

Moving slowly, Connor shifted closer until his head rested against Hank's upper arm, who only smirked as he closed his eyes. "That's better." The tension between them eased, Connor letting out a relieved sigh.

Unbelievably, Hank fell asleep within a minute.

For a long time, Connor simply watched him rest. Sometimes he found it hard to believe his luck. If someone else had been chosen as his partner, he doubted he'd be who he was today.

Hank had supported him in so many ways without even knowing it. Eventually, Connor found his system shutting down of its their own accord, his consciousness fading away until morning.

Something warm was lying against him, weighing down one side of his body. Slow to stir, Connor opened his eyes to find Hank's face buried in his chest, one of his legs over Connor's. He was snoring quietly, his features relaxed.

Behind Connor was Sumo, sprawled out along his back. Unbidden, thinking he was surrounded on all sides, he couldn't help chuckling.

Between the two of them and the covers, it was beginning to get hot. Connor shifted to get more comfortable. His movements woke Hank up, his hair hilariously plastered flat in places, staring in confusion at Connor.

Then he woke up completely, Hank immediately retreating to his side of the bed, flushing a bit. The sight was endearing, but Connor chose to say nothing, something else bugging him.

Though he hadn't taken a proper reading, Hank had felt fairly warm to the touch, his forehead a little moist.

"Are you all right, Hank? Your body temperature seems elevated."

Hank turned to face the wall, his feet coming to rest on the bedroom floor. "I'm fine. It's just been a while since I've had someone else in the bed, that's all. And keep your sensors to yourself, why don't you?"

Feeling he'd tripped somewhere in expressing his trepidation, Connor vowed to keep a close eye on Hank the next few days. It wouldn't do for him to get sick on his watch.

* * *

"Please let me know if you make any progress," Leslie Peters, a young woman whose husband had died under mysterious circumstances said quietly, the desperate look on her face clearly affecting Hank who silently reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

He took out his business card and handed it to Leslie. "Feel free to call me anytime for updates on the case."

She clasped it tightly, nodding stiffly, the shine of growing tears in Leslie's eyes before she closed the front door. Connor looked to Hank as they walked off the porch, noting that he looked a little pale.

His worry was further increased when Hank raised a hand to his mouth, his breath hitching slightly. A moment later, Hank coughed as they left the house, putting a hand on his knee when it turned into an outright fit.

"Are you all right, lieutenant?" Connor asked, concerned Hank was catching something. With the threat of ever-evolving viruses a real issue, being safe rather than sorry seemed the wisest course.

Hank took a deep breath, roughly clearing his throat. "It's nothing," he insisted, then dug into his pocket and tossed Connor the car keys. "You drive."

Rather than question it, Connor nodded. "Back to the precinct?"

"Yep."

* * *

 **A few days later…**

"I'm going to work," Hank declared in a gruff voice in the early morning, lying flat in the bed. The back of one of his hands laid across his sweaty forehead, creased in discomfort.

Even standing at the side of the bed, Connor could hear the thick sound of Hank's breathing, nasal and chest congestion an additional hindrance in the man's clear illness.

Not trusting he could produce a precise temperature without assistance, Connor momentarily left Hank to enter the bathroom.

His search bore fruit as Connor sighted a thin white plastic thermometer in one of the cabinet drawers after pulling out one of them. Compared to thermometers on the market today, it was a relic, but despite the simple design still seemed to be in proper working order.

Though Connor knew it was a forgone conclusion, he leaned over Hank and gently stuck the thermometer into his mouth. The digital numbers on the display rose swiftly, topping out at 102 degrees with a single shrill beep.

He removed the thermometer, shaking his head.

"You're not," Connor announced, placing the thermometer on the nightstand next to the bed, fast-growing cold now that it was away from its previous source of heat.

Hank coughed, stubbornly sitting up in bed. "I **am**." He put his feet on the floor, taking a deep breath before standing unsteadily.

Connor frowned, using one finger to push the top of Hank's chest. The man wobbled for one moment, groaning as he gave up the fight and sank back down into the covers of the bed.

"You're not," he repeated, pulling the top of the covers up to Hank's chest, an utter look of utter misery on his partner's face.

Hank had insisted again and again that despite a persistent pain in his throat and random cough there was no way he was getting sick. Now because he hadn't been taking care of himself, the virus Hank incubated had emerged fully grown, wreaking havoc on his system.

Connor would have said "I told you so," but Hank didn't react well to jibing sometimes.

Groaning in the bed, Hank closed his eyes closing briefly as he shivered despite the layers of bedding he laid under.

"Fine, I'm not," he admitted unhappily, cracking open one eye to gaze at Connor. "You can't catch this, can you?"

Connor shook his head. "No, airborne viruses can't affect me." His immune system was designed to filter out such organic diseases. Electronic ones, on the other hand, were a different story.

"Lucky bastard."

As soon as he'd noticed Hank's fever and other symptoms, Connor had wasted no time in calling off work for both of them. He was determined to do everything in his power so Hank could recover quickly.

Connor was looking up home remedies when Hank touched his wrist, looking at him with a runny nose. "I'm a terrible patient. Just so you know," he warned quite dramatically, then took the tissue Connor handed him, making a loud racket as he blew his nose. He threw the used tissue onto the nightstand.

Smiling, Connor patted Hank's shoulder. "I've seen you at your absolute worst already so I don't think it will be an issue." He tucked Hank's arm back underneath the covers. "Besides, I like taking care of you. It makes me feel useful."

Hank's brow narrowed. "You realize you're wasting your many considerable talents by tying yourself to someone like me, right?"

"I don't see it that way," Connor said. "You underestimate your value at nearly every turn. I quite wish you could see yourself through my eyes at times."

His voice cracking partway, Hank muttered, "Yeah, me too." He eyed Connor for a moment. "Any chance of drugs here?"

Two minutes later, Hank stared at Connor when he was handed two familiar pills. "Why aren't I getting the good stuff? This will hardly do anything."

"On the contrary," Connor said, handing Hank a glass of water. "Not only will it lower your fever, but it also reduces tissue inflammation, which you sorely need right now."

Still looking grumpy about it, Hank nevertheless downed the pills and water, settling back into the bed afterward.

Connor stroked his chin in thought. "A bath and food next, I think," he said, noting Hank's quick eye roll at the last suggestion. "If that's all right with you?"

A groaning sound floated in Connor's direction as Hank flipped onto his side, which he attributed to exasperation, though Connor thought he was being perfectly reasonable about his plan of attack. "Just…do whatever."

He'd take that as a yes then.

* * *

Connor finished drawing the bath, scanning it to make sure the temperature wouldn't cause Hank any undue harm. The ingredients he'd added had turned the water a pale white and he hoped Hank wouldn't find it off-putting.

"Hank?"

Said man had dropped off into unconsciousness, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed. He looked peaceful and Connor hated having to jostle his elbow to wake him up. "The bath is ready."

Opening one eye, Hank stared at him for a tick, then awareness slipped into his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Do you need me to help you into the bathroom?"

Hank sat up, plainly waiting until his equilibrium settled to move again. "No, I got it."

Still, Connor trailed after him as he worked his way into the bathroom. As expected, Hank eyed the whitish water in the tub with suspicion.

"I'm starting to think you're trying to marinate me rather than provide any flu relief."

Connor busied himself with putting a clean towel on the closed lid of the toilet near the tub. "Even if I could practice anthropophagy, I'd rather avoid the risk of bloodborne diseases and kuru, thank you very much."

"No, I meant-" Hank stopped, turning to face Connor with amusement. He smiled, reaching out to pat Connor on the back. "Learning fast, aren't you?"

Connor fidgeted, glad his attempt at joking had gone over well.

"So, what's in this anyway?"

On familiar footing again, Connor was more than happy to provide the information. "Epsom salt, baking soda, ginger, sea salt, and apple cider vinegar."

"Yeah, definitely marinating me," Hank said, starting to pull at the end of his shirt before abruptly stopping. He looked over his shoulder at Connor.

"You want to maybe give me some privacy here?"

Flushing, Connor turned his back. "Sorry."

Try as he might to grant Hank his wish, Connor's peripheral vision was excellent. He instantly looked to the ground, but the information he'd gleaned in the split second was already processing within his mind. Unbidden the thorough exam he'd given Hank when they first met that evening in the bar sprung up.

He compared the stats and one side of his mouth quirked upwards. "You might be interested to know that since I've moved in with you, Hank, that you've lost five pounds."

Hank scoffed. "It's all the rabbit food you've been feeding me."

"I am merely trying to maximize the nutritional content in your diet," Connor explained, the argument familiar. The rustle of clothing dropping to the floor was nearly silent, only the splash of a body hitting the water telling Connor Hank had successfully gotten into the tub. "All good?"

"Yep."

Connor faced Hank, glad the water wasn't very clear so he could maintain some semblance of privacy. His skin was red but some of the strain and tiredness had left Hank's features. "It's not too hot?"

The chest hair Connor could glimpse above the water was salt and peppered colored, a thin sheet over Hank's upper chest that thinned out as it delved further downward.

"No, it's perfect," Hank said, laying his head back against the tiled wall behind him. "I honestly thought this wouldn't do anything, but damned if it's not helping."

Connor knelt down beside the tub, relieved everything he'd added to the bath was having the intended effect. "I do know what I'm doing most of the time, Hank."

Lifting his head, Hank chuckled. "On some things, yes. In others, you're like a freakin' newborn."

"I am working on those aspects of my personality."

"Yeah, I can see that," he replied, trying to repress what looked to be a coughing fit.

Lying his arms on the edge of the tub, Connor frowned. He hated seeing Hank in pain. "You shouldn't keep it in. After all, coughing is the body's natural way of breaking up mucus and clearing important airways."

As if following his advice, Hank hacked for a straight minute, Connor handing him a tissue to blow his nose when he gestured for it. Once his fit had passed, Hank sighed tiredly, leaning back in the tub.

"I'm sorry you fell sick," Connor said, genuinely contrite about Hank's condition. "I wish I had been more proactive in guarding your health."

"I doubt you could have done anything."

Connor was still unhappy about the situation as much as he was enjoying taking care of Hank. "That may well be," he said before standing. "Well, I'll leave you to soak in peace."

He'd gotten a few steps, then heard behind him, "Reckless caregiver, aren't you?"

Connor glanced back. "What?"

Hank blew out a breath. "I could fall asleep here and drown."

Was Hank trying to imply he wanted Connor to keep him company? After all, given his age, Connor doubted such an event would come to pass.

Still, it felt nice being needed. He came back the way he'd come and took a seat. "Yes, you're correct. There is always a possibility."

The relieved smile on Hank's face was all the confirmation Connor needed that his theory had been correct.

"Would you like me to assist in washing your hair?" he asked, not just wanting to sit there.

Hank shrugged, looking as if he couldn't care less. He sank down beneath the water for a second, reappearing with a fully wet head of hair.

The tub had no space at the top so Hank shifted his body to the middle, showing his back to Connor, facing the wall. "What would you like me to use?" Hank had more than a few hair products in the bathroom.

"The 3-in-one stuff." Right, the red bottle then.

Connor grabbed it, squeezing out an ample amount in one hand as he approached the back of Hank's head, working it into a lather.

He hadn't yet explored much of Hank's body beyond his mouth and hand but knew the human scalp could be remarkably sensitive in some people.

Taking a mental deep breath, Connor dipped his fingers into Hank's hair, the semi-long locks soft despite everything that had soaked into it that day.

Whether Hank knew it or not, Connor was hitting all the pressure points on his scalp, striving to provide as much relief as possible.

The tension within Hank's neck eased as he leaned back, closing his eyes. "That's…uh, you're really good at that."

Connor smiled. "Thank you."

"Christ," Hank muttered, Connor feeling the head in his hands go completely lax, driving the white froth bubbles in Hank's hair further up Connor's wrists.

Suddenly, Hank moaned, a sound unlike anything Connor had heard from him before. It echoed once in the room and Connor's fingers working against Hank's scalp stilled in surprise.

A flash of heat swept up his front, coiling around Connor's stomach as what lay beneath his waist stirred. What made everything worse was that Hank seemed completely unaware he'd made any type of untoward sound.

Connor couldn't stop replaying it in his mind.

Even from his position kneeling next to the tub, he could see the line of Hank's neck, his Adam's apple shifting as he swallowed. The muscles of his chest slowly rising and falling, Hank's breathing clearly easier from the bath.

"Why'd you stop?" Hank asked, starting to open his eyes, unknowingly drawing Connor from his reverie.

With effort, Connor pushed back the feeling of arousal, wishing it had been a better time, the circumstances not ideal for fooling around. It was disconcerting having his body react so involuntarily.

"Sorry," Connor replied, gamely resuming the massage, only more gently this time. "Almost done."

Silently, he vowed to maintain a neutral position until Hank's illness had passed and everything went back to normal.

* * *

As Hank slowly disappeared into the bedroom to get dressed, Connor went into the kitchen.

Sumo perked up in interest from his place lying on the living floor, slowly making his way towards Connor.

He stopped when Sumo sat at his feet, leaning his large body against him as Sumo gave him wide puppy dog eyes. Connor laughed and rustled the top of the dog's head.

"Unlike your owner, boy, you're much easier to take care of." Sumo chuffed softly, his tongue slipping out to lick Connor's hand. "Yes, yes, I'll feed you."

The dog food bowl was simple to fill, Connor leaving Sumo to chow down.

"Are you hungry by any chance?" he asked, pitching his voice high enough that Hank could hear it in the other room. "You haven't eaten anything all day and your body needs sufficient energy to fight off the virus."

Silence in reply.

Connor put his head to the side, paying closer attention, a trickle of unease filling him. "Hank?"

Had he fallen asleep midway through the changing process, or had something worse happened?

Worried, Connor put aside the veggies and meat he'd gotten out of the fridge and peeked into the bedroom.

Wearing only gray sweat pants and a thin t-shirt with a familiar metal band logo was Hank, lying on his side in the bed, completely out like a light.

Perhaps the hot bath had done him some good if he could relax enough to rest.

Carefully, Connor placed a blanket over him and retreated back to the kitchen. He'd still make the soup, but at a much slower pace while Hank recouped his energy.

Connor clapped his hands together and began going to work preparing food that would be gentle on Hank's no doubt sensitive stomach. A long-standing tradition said chicken noodle soup was the way to go.

He regarded the chicken and vegetables he'd left on the counter. There were many recipes to draw from and he picked one that wouldn't take an inordinate amount of time to complete.

Since discovering cooking, Connor had found he enjoyed the process very much. Diving into it settled his ever-active mind and while he couldn't eat any of the end results, seeing everything come together in the end was quite satisfying.

Hank seemed to no complaints about anything he'd been served so far. Hopefully, this too would be a success.

All told, the dish came together quickly, the only lengthy task simply getting everything together in one pot, every ingredient cut relatively the same size so it cooked evenly.

Connor was almost finished making the soup when he heard coughing in the hallway, followed by a round of familiar sneezing.

"You should be in bed," Connor said as he came into the hallway, a pale Hank clutching a blanket over his shoulders staring at him banefully. Stubborn to the core as per usual.

"Yeah, well, I can only sleep so much when my head feels like it's on fire." Hank slowly walked forward, Connor ready to catch him should he stumble. Hank scoffed. "Stop hovering, Connor. I'm not an invalid."

He stepped to the side of the hallway reluctantly, knowing Hank would only get pissed at him if he forced his way in against Hank's wishes. His partner was a lot of things, but patience was not among his strong suits.

Somehow, Hank made to the couch, flopping down on it with a large sigh. He sniffed loudly, then pulled at the box of tissues on the coffee table in front of him, rubbing it against his nose. "I hate this."

"I believe many people share the same sentiment when under the weather," Connor replied as he returned to the kitchen to stir the pot on the stove. "But it is just the flu and it will pass."

"'Just the flu?'" Hank parroted. "You're severely underestimating how terrible it really is."

Connor resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. While he knew Hank was going through the worse of it, there was no need to overblow the issue. He, however, chose to keep the thought to himself. "I will have to take your word for it."

"Just wait until it happens to you," Hank threatened ominously as Connor ladled some of the chicken noodle soup into a bowl after turning off the burner. The broth, having had proper time to develop flavor, was golden in color, the various vegetables and meat in it copious.

Though his sense of smell and taste was miles above a normal human's, simply putting together the right ingredients didn't mean all would come together well. Especially since Connor couldn't eat food himself.

Connor chuckled as he brought the bowl of soup to the couch, a dishtowel on the bottom of it. "Believe it or not, I look forward to that moment."

"Yeah, yeah, the eternal optimist." Hank stared at the bowl while Connor dipped a spoon in it, bringing it towards Hank. "I can feed myself, Connor," he insisted, reaching for the spoon he was holding out.

He missed the handle by an inch, Connor patiently waiting as Hank tried again, succeeding this time.

Shoving the utensil into his mouth, Hank remained silent as he chewed until swallowing. "This is…delicious."

Sumo jumped up on the other end of the couch, scooting forward until he was as close as possible to the bowl of soup Connor held.

"I can't remember the last time I had this." Hank held out his hand for the bowl, Connor carefully placing it there.

Connor brightened, glancing away from Sumo who he had been distracting so Hank could get eat his meal unimpeded. "Really? I'm glad."

Making a very concentrated effort to remain sitting up, Hank finished half the soup, then placed the remainder in front of Sumo who dug into it greedily.

"He's going to get fat," Connor warned, pleased nonetheless that Sumo liked it as well.

"Let him."

Hank laid back down on the pile of pillows at the top of the couch, Connor watching him in curiosity. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Soup doesn't work that quickly so no, still feel like shit on toast."

Connor moved the now-empty bowl out of Sumo's reach, taking it back into the kitchen before returning to Hank's side. "If you're still feverish, I can assist you further if needed."

Raising a brow, Hank looked skeptical. "How?"

"Like this," Connor said, lifting the side of the blanket and pressing himself against Hank's side.

"I'm not really in the mood for cuddling," Hank replied flippantly, not quite fighting Connor as he got closer.

Closing his eyes briefly, Connor reached inside himself and lowered his body temperature a bit. "What are you do…oh."

Ever so slightly, Hank scooted downward, pressing his face against Connor's neck and chest. He released a long breath as he laid a hand over Connor's waist.

He thought maybe Hank had fallen asleep until he muttered in a low voice, "Thank you for being here, taking care of me. No one's done that in a long time."

Connor's chest warmed pleasantly in response, wishing he could tell the man snuggled against him how very much he meant to Connor and that it was truly no trouble at all.

But it was much too soon in the relationship, both of them just starting this journey together. Connor would have to settle for the bare minimum.

For now.

He squeezed Hank closer. "You're very welcome."

Hank's breathing slowed, nasal congestion causing him to snore loudly. Still, Connor wouldn't have left him for the world.


End file.
